


Don't Let Me Go

by buzzbuzz34



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Nightmares, Spoilers for 161!, The Extinction, The Lonely - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23447488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buzzbuzz34/pseuds/buzzbuzz34
Summary: When Martin dreams of the Extinction and Lonely, Jon sees his nightmares so vividly, and wants nothing more than to stop Martin from suffering any longer.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	Don't Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Episode 161!!!!

“Jon, come to bed.”

“I’m not tired. Not like that.”

Martin stood in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning against the frame as he watched Jon fumble with one of the many tape recorders that followed him around. 

“I know, but… you could still use some rest, even if you don’t sleep.”

“I don’t think it works like that anymore.”

Jon was still running his fingers over the buttons when a gently lobbed pillow thudded into his side. He dropped the recorder and looked up at Martin, aghast. 

“Jon, come on, please..."

Martin had a pouty look on his face with sincere worry shimmering in his eyes, and Jon sighed, the faint upturn of a smile at the edge of his lips. 

“Yeah, alright. Fair enough.”

After changing into his pajamas, Jon crawled into bed beside Martin and draped an arm over his waist. 

“Good night,” Martin yawned. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Get some sleep.” 

Martin gave Jon a quick kiss on the forehead before rolling in the other direction, adjusting his pillows, and starting to let sleep claim him. Jon moved a little bit closer and rested his head into Martin’s back while his breath slowed. 

It wasn’t that Jon didn’t need rest. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to cuddle up beside Martin and hold him tight. It was that he saw Martin’s dreams, if they could even be called that.

In the world he’d created, there were only nightmares. 

_La porte est la porte est la porte est la porte est la porte est la_ …

Martin’s subconscious raced through doors, some half-destroyed and others pristine, interspersed with dark, dilapidated streets. And in those streets were corpses, mangled and decayed, mutated beyond recognition, embedded into the pavement, entombed in the walls. Their hands almost reached out at Martin, begging him to save them, but there was no hope for them now. Martin ran through one last, broken door, and there was only light.

Blinking, Martin, and by extension, Jon, stepped into a hot summer day, the heat casting up wavering lines around them. Mechanical numbers buzzed in his ear and repeated themselves over and over and over and over.

_Three. Zero. Five. Eight. Three. Nine. Two. Eight. Four. Six._

In the distance, Martin saw a house atop a small hill. But the smoke that rose from it was not that of a chimney or a contained brushfire. It is something else entirely, something unimaginable.

_Four. Seven. Four. Nine._

Jon didn’t need to hear the whole sequence of numbers to know what the meaning was:

The World is Always Ending.

Martin’s subconscious faded away in the beeping of each number, their message both a revelation and a perpetually known truth at the same time. When he looked again, he stood inside a hut that creaked and groaned like shifting metal, mixed with the sound of a distant scream that was ignored as something innocuous. As Martin stepped toward the twisting statues made from refuse and forsaken objects, the block of concrete at his feet transformed and hissed. 

With a shock, Jon pulled himself from the vision. It was so easy to fall into Martin’s dreams, to see that fear right there inside him, but how much was he going to let Martin bear? He could feel Martin’s pulse pounding beneath his embrace and the way his breath caught in his throat as the newly manifested snake lashed out at him and the statues turned toward him, liquid concrete pouring from what should have been their eyes and mouths. 

Consciously, Jon tried to look away. It took all his strength to do so, to reach out and shake Martin, to try and wake him from his nightmares.

“Martin, Martin, wake up, please. Wake up.”

It was no use. And he knew that when he tried. It wasn’t the first time Jon had attempted to wake Martin when the fear of his nightmares caused his body to convulse in the night. Or whatever passed as night anymore. 

But Jon could never wake him. Instead, all he could do was hold Martin a little tighter. 

Instantly, Jon was thrust back into Martin’s dreams and the faint hum of carnival music sent a shiver up both their spines. The people at the game stalls were gaunt and thin, prying apart bones before descending on their injured companion before the life even left his limbs. And then, when their appetites were only just whetted, they turned toward Martin. 

Just as the crowd descended, the scene shifted and changed. The gentle sound of waves crashing on a shore came first, followed by an image of a beach, but all the colors were desaturated and empty. 

It wasn’t the first time Martin dreamt of the Lonely; he’d had visions of it even before the world ended. 

Same as before, Martin’s body shuddered under Jon’s embrace and faint, mumbled words escaped his lips in the waking world.

“No… I can’t go back. I _won’t_. Don’t… don’t make me. Please…”

A quiet sob broke from Jon as he heard Martin beg. The weakness in his voice, the frailty…

“Wake up, Martin, please. You’re not there. It’s not real,” Jon pleaded even though he knew it wouldn’t help.

He’d seen enough terror replayed in his mind, he knew that such platitudes, even if spoken during the consciousness of day, did little to help allay the fear. Every statement he’d ever read used to show itself in his dreams, but now they didn’t need to – there was enough fear in the air to sate his monstrous appetite at all hours. 

It made sense that Martin would dream of the Extinction. Especially when the world around them was so warped from the way it had been just a few days ago. 

And even Jon used to dream of the Lonely, before he no longer needed to sleep. Visions of fog, the din of static, the sight of Martin turning away from him and disappearing into the void…

Feeling Martin beside him was the only thing that got him through such nightmares. So, as Jon was unable to wake him, he held onto Martin even tighter, hoping that his presence would be some small comfort when Martin awoke. 

They didn’t have to eat anymore, he didn’t have to sleep, why did they still have to dream? Why did Martin still have to suffer? He’d been through so much, and yet he was still hurt again and again…

The tears blurred Jon’s vision and he became acutely aware of how closely he held Martin, how his heart raced and his limbs twitched as he tried to find some escape from the Lonely in his mind. Jon pressed his forehead against Martin’s back and let himself cry, because there was nothing more that he could do, except watch and wait. 

“Jon? Jon, are you okay?”

Martin extracted himself from Jon’s grip and rolled over to face him. His eyes were alert even though he’d just awoken from a terrible, _terrible_ dream, and he pulled Jon into a firm embrace, before letting go only slightly, his leg gently draped over Jon’s as he brushed away his tears. 

“What happened?”

“I’m sorry, Martin, I’m so, so sorry. You’ve been through so much and I can’t help, I can’t make it better. I did all this; it’s all my fault, I’m sorry…”

“Jon, please…” Martin cradled Jon’s head with one hand while the other gently rubbed his shoulder. A soothing motion, even if it did little to take away the pain. “I’m guessing you, uh, saw my dreams again? Bad stuff, huh?”

“You really don’t remember them?”

Martin shook his head.

“You’re lucky. The other fear I see from everything happening now, the thing that scares me most about it is that it _doesn’t_ scare me. But with you… I don’t want you to suffer anymore.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Martin insisted softly as Jon let out another heavy sob, even as a tear fell from his own eye. “The dreams might be bad, but at least I get to wake up and see you here. For a few moments, then, everything is okay – except when you’re crying, of course, but you know.”

Jon choked out a chuckle and couldn’t help but smile. 

“When I wake up and see you, or just feel you beside me, there’s a second where none of the pain matters and I can forget that the world is in such a messed-up state. I just… I wish that you could find a reprieve like that. Even for the smallest moment.”

“It doesn’t all go away,” Jon muttered. “It doesn’t ever stop entirely. But… it gets quieter when I hold you.”

Martin pulled Jon in tight and wrapped his arms around him, and Jon pressed himself into Martin’s chest. 

In a soft whisper, Martin urged, “Then don’t ever let go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!! How are we feeling after this first episode of Season 5 y'all?
> 
> If you want to find more of my writing or learn about my original characters, check out kellanswritingblog.tumblr.com, or feel free to come chat on my personal, celsidebottom.tumblr.com <3


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